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One Sunday in a parking lot |
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We were 17 and a bit cocky, the six of us, and just hanging around a closed gas station on a Sunday morning south of Tallahassee. There were several roughtly 35-year-old men working on a car over by the highway and, for some forgotten reason, we walked over there.
Jay, our smallest companion, immediately managed to get into a spat with one of the men and then proceeded to pointedly start counting them, then counting us. Nothing to worry about, we thought -- just an amusing scene. As we stood there watching Jay annoy the men, another man we hadn't noticed emerged from under the hood of the car with a long wrench in his hand. He was about 6' 6" and must have weighed 300 pounds.
The man began to speak. Unlike the others, he was clearly unimpressed -- and a bit too articulate. "Son, I couldn't help noticing you counting your friends and counting us. But, by myself, I'll take you and any three of your little friends."
Based on my observations of bike gangs in Indiana, large, articulate men who liked to fight were not to be trifled with.
Walter, the biggest and toughest of us, was by then about 6' 2" and 220 pounds. A smart guy, he quickly moved to defuse the situation. "Don't pay any attention to Jay. He's an idiot and is always mouthing off. We'll take him off and kick his ass for you. Sorry."
At that point we all turned and walked away, back over to the shade of the tire-changing area near the store.
Walter wasn't convinced that the incident was over though -- so he told us to all position ourselves near something that could be used as a weapon.
So, as we slouched around, hands discreetly near or touching a tire iron, Coke bottle or somesuch, the men gathered up and started to walk over toward us. The large man was leading them and was still carrying the wrench.
"Take the big guy out first", said Walter. "He might pick up the Coke machine and start swinging it!".
With hearts pounding, we pretended not to notice the men approaching as we nonchalantly tightened our grips on our tools and bottles.
Just as they were reaching us, a Leon County deputy swerved into the parking lot and screeched to a stop. A short, muscular cop jumped out and walked up to us.
The deputy wasn't particularly interested in how the situation came about. He was only interested in a resolution. "Tell you what", he said to the big guy, "I'll take off my badge and gun and we can work this out man-to-man. Just you and me."
He was the deputy they sent to break up bar fights, as I would later learn.
The large man calmly stood there for a moment, as if considering the offer. "No, thanks", he said at last.
"Ok, but then you need to leave", the deputy told him.
That was one of the few times we were actually glad to have the cops called on us. |
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| mail this link | permapage | -Ray, May 1, 2007
Linux System Administration: Linux News |
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An odd effect of drug prohibition |
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Long ago I lived in a neighborhood full of boys around the same age. There were only 3 or 4 girls and maybe 5 small children there -- but there were at least 30 of us teenage boys. Needless to say, we got into all sorts of mischief.
By the time the oldest of us were reaching the age of 17, drugs and drinking were fairly common. Interestingly, however, drugs were dramatically easier to obtain than alcohol. We never talked about it but I suspect that all of us knew instinctively why that was.
In those days you had to be 18 to buy beer -- our favorite beverage -- and it was hard to get anyone to buy it for us. The drinkers who didn't use drugs wouldn't buy us beer. The only people who would were 18+ drinkers who were also involved with selling or using drugs. To those folks, however, alcohol was a fairly low priority. Drugs, on the other hand, they were usually ready to provide.
Why would drug users, who by definition are accustomed to breaking the law routinely, be willing to provide drugs to minors when law-abiding drinkers would almost always refuse to procure beer for them? Obviously, the answer is embedded in the question itself.
Dealing drugs to a minor is not a big legal distinction to a drug dealer. His business is already quite illegal. Alcohol dealers, on the other hand, have business licenses and significant fixed investments -- that they are unwilling to put at risk.
And the efficient, low-margin competition in legal alcoholic beverages remains a powerful deterrent to any large-scale illegal alcohol trade.
Alcohol was legal, regulated, and hard to obtain by kids. Drugs were illegal -- and therefore unregulated -- and trivially easy to obtain by teenagers.
While the availability gap between the two may have diminished as more people have become desensitised to law-breaking by drug laws, I suspect that some of the effect persists to this day. |
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| | mail this link | permapage | -Ray, April 26, 2007 |
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Photos of Chernobyl |
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Elena adds a few more photos and commentary to her stories of riding through Chernobyl a few years ago.
My favourite are roads that haven't been ridden for years. Sometimes, I am leaving some log on the road, to see if someone else travels here and when I return in a year or two, I see my log is still there, which suggest, that I still have no followers. read more... |
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| | permapage | -Ray, March 29, 2007 |
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A Tour of Europe by Motorcycle |
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Following up on a really dumb idea...
That's when I saw it. The clutch lever dangled uselessly from the handlebar, broken right before the joint where it attaches to the cable. Horrified, I had to walk away from the bike to control myself during the initial shock. It was all I could do not to burst out crying. I can't believe this!!! I'm at the top of an Alpine pass, in who KNOWS what country by now (Italy, by a few meters), with nothing but a coffee shop around for kilometers, with no clutch?! F... read more... |
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| | mail this link | permapage | -Ray, March 13, 2007 |
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To the Arctic Circle on a Harley |
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952
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Now this is definitely a trip you want to make in Summer...
Now I hate to say it, but the Alaskan Highway got real crowded. I mean all the traffic gets bunched up at the construction zones, then (bikes in front) we go like gangbusters when released on the far side. I may mention that, even though the rest of Canada is very conservative on the speed limit enforcement, on this run it is more or less do what you can. However, I don’t want to be the fastest on the road. I can terrorize myself on the way to work if I want. I’m here to be here, traveling and smiling and making video tapes in my head. I may take a picture for you guys, but the full motion stereo high definition stuff is in my head. read more... |
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| | mail this link | permapage | -Ray, March 7, 2004 |
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A Motorcycle Tour of Africa |
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This was no quickie day trip...
You can find here some stories, pictures and facts of my trip from The Netherlands to South Africa. This trip took me 1.5 year, I spent 50.000 km's on an old motor-cycle and used some luck.
This was the best thing I ever did and I like to share it with you.
This site isn't made for winning the "most fanciful home page price". The purpose of this site is only that you'll get an idea of how I experienced that beautiful continent. That very different continent. Unknown by a lot of people. With all her troubles and all her beauty. There is not a single day that I don't think of Africa and the African people.
Don't tell my boss, but I'm thinking of another trip. From here to Australia? Or maybe from North America to the most Southern point of South America? read more... |
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| | mail this link | permapage | -Ray, March 6, 2004 |
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Motorcycle Paradise: The Chernobyl Dead Zone |
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The beautiful Elena, daughter of a nuclear physicist, tells her story and shows her pictures of riding her Ninja through the 'dead zone' of Chernobyl...
Motorcycling is a great hobby of mine. I ride all my life and I owned different [motorcycles] and I ended with big kawasaki ninja. This motorbike has matured 147 horse powers, some serious bark, it is that fast like a bullet and comfortable for a long trips. I travel a lot and my favorite destination lead through so called Chernobyl "dead zone" It is 130kms from my home. Why favourite? because one can ride there for hours and not meet any single car and not to see any single soul. People left and nature is blooming, there are beautiful places, woods, lakes. Roads haven't been built or repaired since 80th but in places where they haven't been ridden by trucks or army technics, they stay in the same condition as 20 years ago. Time do not ruin roads. read more... |
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| | mail this link | permapage | -Ray, March 31, 2004 (Updated: March 29, 2007) |
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Touring Africa by Motorcycle |
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Maybe you really don't want to ride across it yourself...
"You need petrol?" he asks. We tell him we do. "There is no petrol in Mali now, the country is at war," he says. Our jaws drop. We make up a story to explain to him why we must get to Dakar. We tell him that with his help we will be the winners of the Paris-Dakar race.
After we build up his already inflated ego a bit more, he produces petrol in glass liter jars. Each one is inspected and OK'd before being poured ever-so-carefully into the tank, with never a drop spilled. The whole process takes close to an hour, which is very good in African terms... read more... |
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| | mail this link | permapage | -Ray, March 8, 2004 |
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